


The Moment I Knew

by sweetlolixo



Series: The Moment I Knew [1]
Category: the GazettE
Genre: Alternate Universe - Band Life, Lovers drifting apart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7200215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlolixo/pseuds/sweetlolixo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's his birthday today. Aoi shouldn't have expected anything. But this time, it would be different. It could change everything. Aoi had mapped it out in his mind; Uruha would come, and they could take a quiet walk together, and talk about their dreams again, then Uruha would fall in love with him again, and then things wouldn’t be so broken, so distant. Fairytales worked that way, and perfect romances did, too. And he would have been <em>so</em>... happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Moment I Knew

**Author's Note:**

> Fic originally posted onto LiveJournal [here](http://sweetlolixo.livejournal.com/167543.html) on Nov 09, 2012.
> 
> Inspired by Taylor Swift's song.

He had seen all the signs.

It wasn’t new to him. It wasn’t something that drastically happened overnight; he had seen the signs, and he had ignored them. He had watched the one thing that he wanted the most slip past right by him – and he didn’t do anything. Maybe this had happened countless of times; too much for him to care anymore – or maybe he had been too scared. But it was just too cowardly for him to admit, for a grown, thirty-two year old man, that he was _scared_. He was so, _so_ scared. He was scared of losing someone. He was scared of losing Uruha. What was he supposed to do?

What _could_ he have done?

Maybe he could have done something. Maybe he could have prevented it. Maybe if he had made the right move, at the right time – maybe if he brought back all their memories if he tried hard enough – maybe if he told the other guitarist just how much he meant to him. Maybe if he had told Uruha it wasn’t working, but it was okay, because they could start anew again, and then they could work again. Maybe if he hadn’t ignored the signs; maybe if he didn’t let Uruha go. Maybe if he had held on to that lingering touch the blond gave to him when he came home after a late night, and maybe if he had wrapped his arms just a little bit tighter around the blond deep when they were fast asleep. Maybe if he had tried to say something, to _speak_ , maybe if he had cracked his usual jokes while he sat next to the blond on the couch, watching the usual television.

But then Uruha didn’t laugh anymore. He didn’t laugh at his jokes anymore.

Was it his problem? Aoi doesn’t know, and he really doesn’t _want_ to know. Something fell apart, in the middle of this blooming mess of a relationship, but no one ever acknowledged it. And even if Uruha kissed him, Aoi could feel the reluctancy in the way his hands drew apart from the sides of the raven’s waist, he could taste the bittersweet taste of distinct heartbreak lingering on the tip of the blond’s tongue, and he could watch as those painfully bleak eyes stared into his, so _dark_ , so unreadable, so foreign – Aoi could have sworn they were brown, and light, and beautiful, the first time he met him. And Uruha is still beautiful now, but the glimmer in him is gone.

But maybe the glimmer only vanished when he was with Aoi, now. Aoi doesn’t know. Maybe he had stolen that glimmer away from the blond; sucked him dry, although the raven doesn’t understand _how_ – maybe the blond just didn’t want him anymore. Didn’t want to be around him, didn’t want him anymore.

Aoi crawls into bed every night, counting the number of stars in the sky to help him sleep to the painful silence, watching as the stars faded one, by one, even while sleeping by the one he loved the most. He held back the words he didn’t speak, and he made them into his music. He held back the anger and the sadness, and he held everything to himself. And when his hand falls against Uruha’s side, he only brushes by the rough skin of the blond’s palm, before pulling his hands back to himself, wondering if it was appropriate to even _feel_ Uruha anymore, when he could barely feel his heart. But they were lovers, _right_? They were lovers, who came home to an apartment to themselves, who slept in the same bed and woke up at the same time and dreamt and slept together. But then again, maybe all of those things were filled with so much silence that it didn’t even feel right anymore. But they were _lovers_. And lovers… should have talked.

Everything feels like a distant dream. As if it had just been yesterday the blond was so sweet to him; as if it had just been yesterday the blond laughed and introduced himself to Aoi, and then with those transparent, gleaming eyes of his, smiled and made Aoi feel like the only person in the world. And then he had taken Aoi under his stride, and then Aoi had felt they were a match made in heaven, because their guitar playing chemistry was just _too_ good. And when Aoi fell in love; and when Uruha did the same; and when Aoi felt like this could last forever; and when Uruha said he felt the same; and when Aoi made him promise a million things; and when Uruha said he would fulfill each one of them; and then he _didn’t_ –

And when Aoi felt like his heart couldn’t break any further, and when Aoi told himself he wouldn’t trust any of Uruha’s promises to him anymore.

And when Aoi believed Uruha once more; and then Uruha broke it, for the one, last, time.

~

“It’s my birthday today.”

Aoi doesn’t know why he said it; he just felt like it, because the morning was so silent, and it was choking him, slowly, _surely_. He doesn’t know why he had expected anything in the morning – Uruha used to do birthday surprises for Aoi; like whipping him up his favourite breakfast, or just showering him with kisses – something, _anything_. Uruha used to do something, but this morning, Aoi had woken up to _nothing_ , to the blond showering in the bathroom, to no arms holding him as he woke up, to no one lying beside him on the bed. He had woken up to the noises and sounds of a foreign stranger leaving him alone in the first few hours of his birthday, the sounds of water splashing and running, streaming and flooding like the shreds of his broken heart.

The blond is seated just opposite him now, in the kitchen, his eyes distant and cold like he’d always been. His lips are pursed in a frown, and his movements are slow and careful, picking up the spoon and fork in precision as he ate. He gives little response to Aoi’s words; his eyes almost light up, but then Aoi thinks that he’s just seeing things again. Uruha’s voice, low and hoarse, detached and emotionless, louder than a whisper but soft enough to go unheard;

“Happy birthday.”

Aoi tries his hardest not to cry.

He doesn’t even need to try; Uruha’s already mastered the guise of breaking his heart. He did it everyday, and now on Aoi’s perfect day, he had done it once more, but with a thousand, million, more, pain.

Two words, but it felt like their relationship summarized in just these _two_ words – disappointment, gone, disappeared, broken, tired. Aoi was _exhausted_.

“There’s a birthday party later,” Aoi swallows up the pain, like thick bile, forcing them down his throat. “At night. The others said they wanted to celebrate for me. Would you come?”

He _shouldn’t_ have to ask that. He shouldn’t have had to ask such a simple question, if they were lovers – he shouldn’t have had to worry about Uruha not turning up for him, on his special day. He felt pathetic, having to resort to _this_ , but he loved Uruha. He still loved him, wholesomely, and he wanted to spend this day with him, even if things weren’t the same anymore. It was just a simple wish of his – for things to get better, for Uruha to be happy with him. Sometimes he didn’t even feel perfect for the blond anymore, he didn’t feel up to par; and maybe that was why Uruha had stopped falling in love with him, and broke apart from him. Maybe it was Aoi. Maybe it was just him.

But then – for the first time, in _days_ – Aoi felt a spark of hope. Just a tiny little one, when Uruha’s eyes cast over to his, and gazed at him in the familiar way Aoi used to know. The one which told him a million secrets, the one which laughed and told him all he needed to know that he loved him. The only one perfect in his memory.

“Yeah, I will. When and where?”

Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

~

Aoi’s never felt so nervous in his whole life. He had dressed special for the occasion; he had made sure he looked perfect, _perfect_ enough for the blond. It had been such a long time since Uruha _actually_ spent time with him, what with the band being busy with tours, lives, practices, and making music – that by the time both of them got home, they usually headed for the shower, for dinner, or to sleep. They barely spoke; but now it felt like Uruha was giving Aoi yet _another_ chance. This time, it would be different. It could change everything. Aoi had mapped it out in his mind; Uruha would come, and they could take a quiet walk together, and talk about their dreams again, then Uruha would fall in love with him again, and then things wouldn’t be so broken, so distant. Fairytales worked that way, and perfect romances did, too. And they had a perfect romance once – they had it all, once. They could whisk away from the party venue and just spend time alone together – that was all he wanted, and _needed_. It gave Aoi a perfect excuse to be with Uruha, again, alone, and to salvage their dying relationship.

Thinking about it gave him _so_ much hope. He had been waiting for a chance like this in ages – he had been wanting of _something_ , someone, to bring them closer just like before. He wanted to talk to Uruha, but he couldn’t – the words couldn’t leave his mouth even if he tried. It always felt like they were on the verge of slipping, on the verge of plummeting off his lips, but then when they leave, they grow magical wings that fall to the ground in a graceful dance, and every word goes unsaid. And Aoi can’t have that, anymore. He wants to make things right, and he wants those words to leave, _finally_. And it would be the greatest birthday present, of all time, if he righted all the wrongs today and did everything he should have done long ago. Faulted all their mistakes; and saved a sinking ship. He would do _anything_ , and everything, for the blond – but Uruha didn’t know that, yet. But he would, today.

Aoi’s gotten to the venue early; it was one of the pubs the band members and him usually frequented after a successful live, and it was one of the exclusive pubs with expensive décor and drinks and everything. It’s rather quiet today, but Aoi guesses his friends have booked the whole place, and the people and connections that were bound to fill in the place slowly later would be aplenty. But Aoi knows that’s not what he’s looking forward to – he just needed the presence of that very person to be here, and that would be enough.

His friends reach soon after, and as they pat the raven on the back and wish him happy birthday with extravagant gifts, Aoi finds himself trying to say thank you, while balancing on focusing his eyes at the door at the same time. Any minute now, Uruha might enter. And he couldn’t possibly miss that chance to go up to him, to tell him how he was so happy he was here, and how they could go someplace alone and change things. He’s rehearsed the scene a million times in his head in the past hour, and he won’t let anything ruin a single part of that plan.

But then as he indulges in small talk and dull conversation with the others, he finds the hours slowly passing, too quickly, too _fast_ , with not a single hint of Uruha standing by the door. People are filling up the pub way too fast, and it’s almost hard to distinguish the people he knows now, but he knows the blond still isn’t here anywhere – he would recognize him in a heartbeat. It’s so crowded, and it’s so noisy, but it’s like a silent movie in Aoi’s eyes, and it’s like having your heart fall deeper and harder by the second. It’s like not being able to acknowledge reality, and it’s like having your wildest dreams get crushed all in one, fatal snap.

Aoi had never felt so alone in a crowded room.

They’re going to sing happy birthday soon, and it’s well over four hours into the party by now, but Aoi can’t deal with it. Uruha had said he’d be here – he said he _would._ Aoi _couldn’t_ have waited all night for no one to impress. He would burst through the door, and fulfill his promise to Aoi, and it would have felt like the million stars in the night sky had just aligned. It was the first time, in _months,_ having hope, having something to look forward to. It was like having that one chance, that opportunity, that one last time they could fix things right.

And Uruha couldn’t have screwed that up.

He couldn’t _have._ Aoi finds himself excusing himself to the bathroom for awhile, but he barely even reaches past the door when he feels the hot tears leaking past his eyes. He had never felt more devastated in his life; he had never, _ever_ , felt so betrayed, so held up, so let down, so _disappointed_. He had never had his wildest dreams get crushed so easily like this before, and he had never felt this worst, not even when Uruha began ignoring him. He tries to contain his sobs, as he lies over the sink, and the sinking feeling starts; and when the door opens and he realizes someone’s behind him, he can’t even find the heart to stop, because he can’t care for anything else right now.

He looks up into the mirror and he realizes it’s Reita; who has his hand on the raven’s back, quietly soothing him. Aoi doesn’t need to speak to convey his thoughts; the bassist fully understands Aoi’s situation and the way things have changed over the past few months. But Aoi still rubs at his reddened eyes, anyway, and tries to calm himself down, just for Reita’s sake.

“You didn’t have to,” The raven’s voice is quiet, in a low murmur. He feels bad, because Reita’s just one of those who had planned this party for him, and he guesses they would want him to feel the happiest on his birthday – but it felt nothing, _nothing_ , without Uruha here.

“You were looking at the door the whole time,” Reita says, softly, his eyes falling over the raven’s in sadness. “I knew something was wrong.”

Aoi could feel the wet tears trickling down again. “He said he would come.”

The bassist nods his head, in understanding, and offers the raven a comforting hug. “Maybe he was just busy.”

The raven’s throat constricted, his words coming out in a quivering mess. “He said he would. He should have been here. And I would have been so, _happy_.”

“Aoi…” Reita’s heart fell. The guitarist was heartbroken beyond words; and the bassist didn’t think he could do anything to cure the devastation and happiness the raven felt. “Do you want to go home? I’ll drive you.”

“Yeah,” Aoi says, too quickly, wiping at his eyes once more, pulling away from the embrace. “I would appreciate that.”

“We’ll go through the back door.” Reita suggests, and Aoi nods, following his lead as they exit through the bathroom, and head out of the pub. But what else can you say when tears are streaming down your face in front of everyone you know, and what do you do when the one who means the most to you, is the one who

 _didn’t_ show?

_~_

When Aoi digs in his keys furiously into the apartment door and twists it open, he pulls it open, only to meet the usual, empty scene of his apartment, the one filled with silence, the one he’d gotten used to everyday. He turns on the lights, throws his keys onto the table, and makes his way across to the bedroom, wanting to sink into sleep and to never, _ever_ , wake up. He barely even gets to the bed when his phone rings, and he picks it up without acknowledging the caller ID, guessing it was probably Reita who was calling to make sure he had gotten into his apartment safely.

But then the blond’s raspy, tired voice floats through the speaker, and Aoi almost drops his phone, his hands shaking and trembling, the forgotten tears suddenly coming back up again. Why was Uruha calling him? What else did he have to say? He had ruined their perfect _night_. He had ruined _everything_. What else could Uruha possibly say to make it all better again, what _else_ could Uruha say to heal the wounds he’d managed to reopen tonight? Aoi didn’t ask for this; he didn’t plan for this. He didn’t come back for this; he didn’t _want_ this. He had planned for everything to go well, and none of that came true.

He had wished for Uruha to come back to him tonight, and he didn’t even turn up.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it,” his lover says numbly over the phone, and Aoi’s heart breaks another million times. He fingers the sheets of their bed, allowing his hands to roam around the comfort of Uruha’s side of the bed, knowing he would be sleeping alone in this bed tonight, before Uruha came back; and knowing it wouldn’t even have made a difference, even with the blond’s body next to his.

“I’m sorry, too.” The raven says in a whisper, staring out at the window of his bedroom, counting the number of stars left in the sky.

And that was the moment he knew.

**Author's Note:**

> in my original author's note for this fic on LJ, I wrote a touching, heartfelt note about what inspired me to write this.
> 
> but to cut it short here, I wrote this at a moment that I felt like I got screwed over.
> 
> anyway, life doesn't always have a happy ending, but I wanted my OTP to have one. so there's a sequel!


End file.
